Kerry tilts her head. ‘I hardly think that’s relevant.’
‘What’s relevant is that he’s evil and I still have standards.’
Chuckling darkly, Kerry can’t help but agree. The girls leave the shop arm in arm, considering looking at clothes next, when something sounds from across the shopping centre. They stop, listening.
Beth can hear her own heartbeat in her ears. She realises with a pang of annoyance that she’s left her rifle in the bookshop with the boys. Despite no other noise following the last one, she looks around her for a weapon anyway. Beside her, Kerry begins to relax, looking longingly at the shops around her.
‘It could’ve been the cat...’ Kerry murmurs hopefully.
But Beth can list several other things it could’ve been: the boys could’ve been in an argument and fought, there could’ve been a zombie attack, or maybe even other scavengers. With the exception of Preston, the Furious Four are some of the friendlier scavengers around; other groups tend to kill or maim on sight. No Man’s Land, as Preston often likes to point out, is lawless land. Attacking anyone, human or otherwise, is warranted.
‘It sounded like a gunshot,’ whispers Beth, still listening. ‘I think we should head back...’
‘I’m sure they’re fine,’ says Kerry, but as her sentence concludes a streak of orange fur approaches them, hissing.
Ratbag, frazzled and spitting, only slows to a stop when he’s safely behind Kerry’s legs. His damaged ears are flat against his head and his patchy fur stands on end. Beth glances from the cat to the direction he’s fled from. Kerry scoops up the cat, nods at Beth, and they break into a run towards the bookshop.
A series of images Beth doesn’t want to picture flash in Beth’s mind and her pulsing heart seems to speak her son’s name as it smacks against her chest. Forever seems to pass before they finally reach the shop, which is blessedly filled with noise.
‘...Could’ve killed the cat, never mind you!’
‘Oh sure,’ snaps Gabriel as the girls approach them, ‘my ears are ringing and you almost shot me, but worry about the cat!’
‘Well obviously!’
A gun is smoking in Preston’s hand and Gabriel’s fists are clenched, but both are unharmed. Beth releases her breath and glowers.
‘What is going on here?’ she growls.
‘He attacked me!’ says Gabriel, pointing an accusing finger at Preston.
‘You woke me,’ says Preston, shrugging and taking his cat from Kerry’s arms.
‘I tripped over his leg,’ Gabriel tells Beth. ‘I didn’t know he’d gone to sleep!’
Insomnia, as the others know, is something Preston has always suffered with. Too many times they’ve found him asleep against a tree back home or heard him snoring in the bath. He sleeps for a couple of hours at a time – no more, no less – when can. When asked about this by Beth, Preston shrugs it off, but she has a feeling something triggered it once upon a time. In any case, his peers know never to wake a sleeping Preston for fear of death or injury.
Rolling her eyes, Beth hands Gabriel the basket with his boots in and reaches for her rifle. Gabriel examines the new shoes and he seems satisfied.
‘Let’s just hope no one heard the gunshot,’ Beth grunts as she slips the rifle strap over one shoulder. ‘This place is bound to attract activity of one kind or another.’
‘Well,’ says Kerry, ‘I’d say we’re pretty much done here anyway.’
‘Back to the hotel, then,’ says Preston, whose cat has made himself quite comfortable atop his shoulders, its bottom resting on the top of his rucksack.
‘Do you have everything?’ Beth asks Gabriel, who nods.
The group emerges from the bookshop into the main body of the mall, longing to kick their shoes off and eat. Beth walks slightly ahead, silent and alert, while the others chat amicably amongst themselves.
It’s strange, Beth thinks to herself, how natural it all feels. They’ve lived in a nature reserve for roughly four years, living off the land when they can and scavenging nearby if they need to, but being in a shiny shopping centre toting new earrings, Beth feels as if she never left her old life behind.
Her train of thought careens off its tracks when a smash sounds somewhere nearby. As a unit the group crouches low, all conversation killed by the intrusion. Her heart pounding, Beth silently takes her rifle from her back and points it towards the unwelcome sound. Glancing behind her she sees the others have armed themselves too, and she can’t help noticing the look of absolute glee on Preston’s face at the possibility of a fight.
A clothes shop offers cover nearby, and they move stealthily towards it with Preston bringing up the rear. Muffled chatter sounds from the floor below, and Beth tries to count the voices as she hides behind a stack of jeans. Kerry catches her eye, gives her a questioning look and holds up five fingers. Beth shrugs and returns her gaze to the doorway, where her gun is aimed steadily.
‘Parlay,’ whispers Preston with a wicked gleam in his eye.
‘Can we not just find a fire exit?’ hisses Kerry.
‘There must be one close by,’ agrees Beth.
With a playful smile tugging at his lips, Preston coaxes the cat off his shoulders and sets him down on the floor. He counts the bullets in both his guns as the unknown voices float closer.
‘I could do with some new jeans,’ says a female voice, and Beth’s eyes widen.
‘Yeah,’ agrees another voice, ‘you are getting a bit fat for skinnies.’
‘Oh piss off!’
Laughter erupts and by the sound of it the Furious Four are outnumbered. Beth shoots a desperate look at Preston, begging him. Nodding to each of them in turn, looking far more excited than he should, Preston jerks his thumb over his shoulder.
You three go, he signs, and I’ll take care of the intruders.
Immediately Gabriel is shaking his head furiously, but relief has already begun to flood through Beth.
Meet at the hotel, she signs back, and Preston nods.
She takes her son’s hand, exchanging a nod with Kerry, and they delve further into the shop, keeping their eyes peeled for an exit. As they search they can still hear the voices, and then the sudden halt to conversation when the strangers spot Preston.
‘Hello,’ they hear Preston say casually. ‘Can someone point me to a bathroom? I’m dying for a piss.’
Silence reigns for a beat while Beth leads the others through the accessory section and the strangers consider Preston’s presence. Gabriel skids on a fallen bracelet and regains his balance with the help of his mother.
Conversation picks back up but by then they’re too far away to hear. It looks as if there might be a door at the back of the shop, and Beth moves as fast as she dares to. They remain low, their weapons ready, but they reach the back exit without incident and Beth attempts to pry the automatic doors apart.
She tries to picture the conversation between Preston and the other group, but no matter how hard she tries she can’t imagine it ending without gunfire. He’ll make casual conversation with them first, like a cat toying with mice. He’ll make them think he’s friendly. And then if they don’t draw their weapons before he gets bored he’ll initiate the fight himself.
Fortunately the automatic doors open without complaint, and Beth holds the gap for Kerry and Gabriel before slipping through herself. They emerge outside on a balcony, two levels up, and a bridge links the balcony to a car park across the street.
‘Quick and quiet through the car park,’ whispers Beth. ‘Then we run for the hotel. Are you ready?’
As Kerry and Gabriel nod their assent the first gunshot sounds.
The cat pads along beside them as they slow their pace to a brisk walk. The hotel is in sight now, and they’re far from the shopping centre. Preston should’ve caught up with them by now but Beth tries not to worry.
‘Some of them wear the most ridiculous costumes,’ Gabriel explains to Kerry, his voice breathy from the long journey on foot. ‘There’s this one wit
h a red and blue suit covering his entire body, and I’m just wondering how he gets in and out of it. And does he have to take the whole thing off to go to the toilet?’
‘I think there were films about that one in the Old World,’ says Kerry thoughtfully.
‘I liberated a few comics from the shop,’ Gabriel admits, ‘but I left Mr Red-and-Blue-Suit behind. He looked a bit weird to me.’
Gabriel swings the basket back and forth as they walk; they hadn’t even stopped for a second once they were clear of the car park. Ratbag had caught up to them at some point, somehow managing to track them all the way from the stack of jeans. Beth breathes heavily, eager to get back to the suite and collapse.
They all but fall through the hotel’s entrance, their feet aching, and the temptation to nap right there in the lobby is strong. Kerry leans against the front desk to catch her breath and Beth makes for the lift, pressing the button. Usually when they’re scavenging Beth can’t wait to be home, but today she’s happy to settle for the plush pillows in the suite above them.
‘Mum,’ whispers Gabriel, and Beth frowns at the urgency in his voice.
She looks to where he’s pointing and her spirits sink. In the corner, slumped against the wall, is something that most definitely wasn’t there when they left: a corpse, sitting in a pool of blood. Its head is completely bald, its flesh spotted with scabs, and it’s missing an arm – this one was far gone and probably hungry when it was shot in the head.
‘I’m glad we weren’t here when that thing was roaming around,’ says Kerry soberly, ‘but then who...?’
A ping sounds from behind Beth as the lift arrives, and a second later a bullet whizzes past them. They dive to the ground, Beth doing her best to shield Gabriel’s body with her own. The cat streaks under the desk, hissing, as another bullet embeds itself in the wall behind Kerry, who screams in surprise.
Gabriel is the first to draw his gun and fire as maybe nine people burst through the doors to the right of the lift, toting guns and cricket bats. Gabriel fells one and shoots another through the knee before they’re upon them, dragging Gabriel from his mother and disarming him. The immobilised attacker screams in pain on the ground, holding her bleeding leg.
Before they know it Beth, Gabriel and Kerry are on their feet, restrained with guns pointed at their heads. A tall, muscular woman with a dirty blonde ponytail paces between them, tossing a knife, her expression sour.
‘Are there more of them?’ she asks no one in particular.
‘I don’t think so,’ replies the short, stocky man holding Beth. His breath smells foul.
‘Please,’ growls Beth in a tone that sounds less like pleading and more like a threat, ‘let my son go. He’s a child.’
‘A child on No Man’s Land,’ says the woman, turning to face Gabriel. ‘What sort of mother brings up a child outside a Quarantine Zone?’
‘He killed Aaron,’ says another woman, nodding towards the body in the doorway, ‘and he shot Olive.’
‘You attacked us first!’ shouts Gabriel.
‘What is he, ten?’ the muscular woman asks Beth.
‘He’s eight,’ says Beth through gritted teeth.
‘What do we do with them, Gem?’ says the stocky man.
The muscular woman, Gem, seems to contemplate this. In the moments it takes her Beth tries to take stock. There are now seven on their feet and one bleeding in the corner, and three of them hold guns. The situation is hopeless, but if there could be any way to get Gabriel out of this...
The answer comes in the same moment Gem opens her mouth to respond, and before anyone can blink two of the men holding guns drop like rag dolls, their weapons skittering away on the marble floor. A third bang sends the third armed thug down with them and the remaining living freeze where they are.
In walks Preston, spattered with blood, his lip split and an ugly bruise curving around his eye, and a slow grin spreads across his face as he blows smoke theatrically from the ends of his guns.
‘Honestly,’ he says, ‘I can’t leave you freaks alone for five minutes.’
And they spring into action.
With a forceful tug Beth pulls away from her captor and swings around to punch him, her fist connecting with his jaw like a battering ram. Kerry backs her opponent into the wall, shattering a mirror and freeing herself, her braid swinging wildly. Gabriel struggles, unable to separate himself from his restraints, and an arm wraps around his throat. Letting out a furious scream Beth charges for him, but is pulled back by the back of her jacket and a fist collides with her cheek.
Through starry vision she glimpses the scene in fragments: Kerry stabbing someone in the leg with a shard of glass, Gabriel kicking wildly, Preston booting someone in the face and Gem reaching for a fallen gun. Gabriel’s struggling lessens as pressure tightens on his neck and Gem whirls to aim the gun at Preston.
Kerry dives just as Beth does. Gem is yanked back by her greasy ponytail, some of it breaking free in Kerry’s hands, and Beth launches herself at the thug holding her son, her fingers clawing at his eyes. The grip on Gabriel’s throat loosens and he immediately reaches for the sword in his backpack.
With the upper hand the Furious Four are unstoppable. They move as if plugged into each other, knocking out where possible and maiming where necessary. In a matter of seconds only Gem is left on her feet and her hands shoot into the air.
‘So,’ says Beth, accepting Gabriel’s outstretched sword and twirling it in her hand. ‘I believe you were about to tell us your decision. To kill the eight year old or to let him live.’
‘Kill her,’ hisses Preston, his teeth stark white against the blood on his lips.
‘I wouldn’t kill a child,’ Gem says, gulping as the sword tip nicks her throat.
‘Took you a little time and a turn of the tables to decide that,’ spits Gabriel.
‘I wouldn’t,’ she insists.
Beth lowers the sword and Preston rolls his eyes. Kerry gathers the discarded weapons off the floor and sweeps them into Gabriel’s basket.
‘That’s it?’ snaps Preston.
‘You have an hour to gather your friends and clear out,’ Beth tells the woman. ‘This is our place.’
‘You’re sparing them?’ Preston scoffs. ‘Pathetic.’
‘I’m not a killer, Preston.’
‘Come on, Gabriel,’ says Kerry, handing him the basket and leading him to the lift.
Not sparing a second glance to Gem, Beth brushes past and follows the others. The lift doors slide open to admit them and they step in, only to notice that Preston hasn’t followed them. Beth just has time to instinctively step in front of Gabriel before Preston aims his gun and fires. He steps over the body and strides into the lift, fresh blood staining his jacket. He shoots Beth a dazzling smile.
‘You might not be,’ he says, ‘but I most certainly am.’
Other scavengers are the reason they never usually go to Quarantine Zones, whether they be recently or long abandoned. Newly abandoned Zones could attract both zombies and looters, whereas the Zones long deserted are established territories by now. It seems that groups are already moving into this one. Beth wonders what she was thinking, voting to explore this one as if it would’ve been any different.
No Man’s Land has never been a place to meet pleasant people. Since the walls were built around the uninfected cities and the new world order had fell upon them, the only Outlander they’d met and liked was Steve, a sixty two year old man who trades information for resources – the very soul who’d informed them of the wasteland they now temporarily reside in. Any other scavengers are to be avoided, because they’d learned fast that every man is very much for himself.
Stretching his glorious muscular arms, Preston steps out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel, tied low around his hips. Somehow the giant bruise on his face and the busted lip do nothing to diminish his good looks. Beth hates how good-looking he is.
Not bothering to get dressed, Preston flops onto the nearest bed and sighs.
Everyone is exhausted and bruised and it’s beginning to get dark. Beth sets down her half-eaten tin of sweet corn and reaches for the uke.
‘I can’t believe you agreed to stay another night,’ says Kerry as Beth begins to strum absentmindedly.
‘I suppose the bodies in the lobby are enough to ward anyone off,’ Gabriel points out.
Not to mention, Beth thinks, the barricaded door, which is barely visible behind a desk, a unit, the television set and a lamp. They’re safe for tonight and, for once, comfortable and warm.
‘Preston,’ says Beth softly, ‘song.’
Preston mulls this over before saying, ‘“Hey Jude.”’
It has become a routine over the years. Every day for as long as they can remember, the day has ended with a song. Beth has carried the ukulele with her everywhere, just in case.
Gabriel and Kerry lie back, relaxed, as Beth begins to strum. The sound, a familiar comfort, calms them, and on cue, his voice soft and melodic and completely ironic, Preston begins to sing.
A Day in the Life
Countless times Preston has pointed out that the post apocalypse isn’t as exciting as he’d initially expected, and Gabriel can’t help but concur that life in the Sanctuary is, for the most part, monotonous.
The day begins with the boys; Preston’s insomnia pretty much guarantees that he’ll be awake in the early hours, and Gabriel wakes up long before the girls. They spend the early hours reading, waiting for Beth to wake up and make them all breakfast. Gabriel’s reading material of choice is usually graphic novels, whereas Preston tends to read novels about cats or, his personal favourite, dog-eared copies of the Lord of the Rings.
Beth is often woken by the sound of her son’s quiet laughter. She lies there for a while, taking in the faint sound of birdsong and the occasional chuckle from Gabriel’s bed, before she sits up, stretches, and makes her way down to the kitchen.
The Sanctuary was once a nature reserve, a tourist attraction where parents would bring their kids to tick birds off an illustrated list. There was a cafe, a gift shop, a restroom and a car park, right in the middle of the woods. Since its desertion, however, several upgrades had to be made by Beth and Preston to make it habitable. The cafe is transformed into their kitchen and pantry. It’s nothing fancy; most of the tables have been pushed against the wall and used to stack tins on, most of the chairs have been stacked beside them and just one solitary table remains in the middle of the room, surrounded on each of its four sides by a chair.
After The End (Book 1): The Furious Four Page 5